


Bonfire Night

by Alexis_Rockford



Series: Fictober 2018: 31 Fandoms in 31 Days [10]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Angst and Feels, Arcadia Bay, Blackwell Academy, Bonfires, F/M, Fictober, Grief/Mourning, Guy Fawkes Night, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, Short One Shot, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Alexis_Rockford
Summary: Nearly a month after Chloe's tragic death at the hands of Nathan Prescott, everyone is healing and moving on. Everyone except Max.This ficlet was written in response to the Fictober prompt for October 10, 2018: Fire side





	Bonfire Night

“Remember, remember, the fifth of November!” rang the cry from the group of students gathered around the roaring bonfire. The booze was flowing freely, and the scent of cannabis was thick in the air. Max Caulfield sat at a distance, watching the flames flicker into the cold night sky. It seemed wrong that the entire student body of Blackwell Academy should be celebrating _anything_ after the events that had transpired last month let alone an obscure British holiday like Guy Fawkes’ Day. But then when did these privileged assholes ever pass up an attempt to party?

She couldn’t even remember why she had decided to come down to this stupid event. Alcohol, drugs, and fire were not a good combination, especially when perpetrated on campus in front of the boys’ dormitory. It was even a school night for God’s sake. Not to mention the fact that Chloe Price wasn’t even a month cold in her grave. Was nothing scared to these hooligans?

A lone figure approached her in her solitude. “Maxwell Smart!” called the familiar voice of her best friend, Warren Graham. He had a telltale red plastic cup in one hand and his cellphone in the other. He snapped a quick selfie against the glow of the fire before sitting down beside her. Once he was in easy range of her ear, he leaned over and whispered. “But seriously, how are you doing, Max?”

She searched his deep chocolate eyes as if she would find the answer there. “I’ve been better,” she admitted with a shrug.

A sharp gust of autumn wind caught her hair and set it dancing across her shoulders. She gave an involuntary shiver and Warren reached over and put his arm around her shoulder. She remembered sitting with him like this on the night of the solar eclipse, back in that other timeline when Chloe was still alive. Back when things had still _mattered_ to her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that it was October 8th again, that she still had three days to figure out how to save her hometown from the devastating storm that she herself had conjured up. But she knew it was a lie. When she opened her eyes, Chloe would still be dead, and the orange glow against her eyelids would be the harsh light of the bonfire rather than the warmth of sunset.

She tried to relax into Warren’s embrace. She’d known he’d had romantic feelings toward her for a while now, but she didn’t know quite how to respond to them. She didn’t dislike the extra attention he was paying her, but she hadn’t really encouraged it either. It just sort of _was_. Honestly, at this point, she didn’t know if she would ever be able to feel anything again, much less love.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he finally murmured, his jaw working against the side of her head. “ I don’t pretend to know what you are going through right now. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you if you need me. Even if it’s just as a friend.”

She turned to look at him. There was nothing physically different about him. He was the same old Warren he had always been with his careless tousled hair and his bright intelligent eyes. And yet, she felt that something had shifted between them at that moment. An invisible weight that had been lifted from her shoulders by his kind words rather than his strong hands. Hands which once bore the scars from the multiple beatdowns he had delivered to Nathan Prescott.

She reached out and grasped one of them in her own smaller ones. Her fingers traced the stubby remains of his over trimmed nails. “Thank you, Warren,” she rasped, leaning further into his shoulder. “I can’t be what you want me to be right now,” she admitted sadly after a moment’s pause. “But don’t stop trying. Give me time.”

Despite her gentle rejection, Warren’s face seemed to glow from within. “Time is one thing I got,” he replied in a low voice. “I’m the Doctor, remember?”

Max rolled her eyes, but a small smile slid across her lips. “Alright, Time Lord,” she teased, standing up and brushing off the dirt from her faded jeans. He stood, too, and they both stared into the fire as if they could see the future in its white-hot depths. If there was anything stranger than life, it was love. And who knew? Maybe someday she would be able to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. When that day came, Max knew he would still be there waiting.


End file.
